Page 85 of Enchanted Heir
“Don’t remind me,” Krew said to Owen. He was leaning back on an elbow, the blankets down to the middle of his stomach.
I had never cared less about snow boots than I did in that moment.
“Remind you of what?” I asked, willing my eyes to go to Krew’s and not the rest of him.
Krew’s eyes met mine. “Today I begin planning our trip to Nerede for the Harvest Festival with father. So I’m sure we will be in meetings all day. And he is sure to be hungover as well.”
“Sounds fun,” I said with as much sarcasm as I could muster.
“Let’s go,” Owen barked. “We’re already late.”
I groaned. “I have never disliked you more.”
“Is she always this hateful about training?”
Owen and I both answered at the same time, “Yes.”
* * *
We were in a cold,damp room of the castle. Owen had moved the furniture with his magic, clearing a space for us to work. It was a huge living room of sorts. But not in the royal family’s wings. I had no idea what this room was used for. Based on the thin coating of dust on all the tables, it hadn’t been used in a long while.
I was on my third try of dodging the orbs Owen put out. After feeding Rafe, we had run stairs inside, then did our stretching and combat practice, and now we were finishing with the orbs.
I spun and turned, trying to stay on my toes, ducked under another, and took a step forward. But I got off balance and nicked one with my butt while I tried to keep from falling on my face.
“Dammit,” I sighed.
“You’re distracted today,” Owen stated.
“You think?”
“Wanna talk about it?” he asked as he put up a sound barrier at the door.
“Talk about what?”
Owen crossed his arms and glared at me. “You know exactly what. The hallway. Last night.”
I let out a sigh. “I just... what even was that?”
Owen shrugged, his head going to one shoulder. “I believe they call it kissing, Jorah. That’s at least one of the least vulgar terms I know.”
“I know,” I snapped, grabbing my knees and feeling tired. These training sessions were a lot easier if I actually got rest at night. “But he’s going to get himself killed, and I have no right to feel... what I feel.”
“Oh, so we are finally acknowledging the fact that you do feel something?” His face was serious and no longer joking.
I put my hands out. “You were there. So obviously.”
Owen put his arms down just to glare at me. “I think the only people who thought this little charade was an act were the two of you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m saying it’s been a long time coming,” Owen offered. “And I’m just glad we are finally not pretending otherwise. It’s been exhausting watching you two dance around it this long.”
Tears stung the back of my eyes. “What am I doing though?”
He must have noticed because he was there, throwing his arms around me. “Hey. Don’t cry. You know I hate it.”
I laughed, getting something which was either snot or sweat on his shoulder and feeling no remorse about it. “He thinks he’s going to die, Owen. And I don’t want him to. He doesn’t get to make me feel like this and then just die on me.”
